


Game On

by BiscuitsForPotter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battleship (Board Game), Board Games, Card Games, Competitive Draco Malfoy, Competitive Hermione Granger, Detention, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Mild Smut, Monopoly (Board Game), POV Draco Malfoy, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-War, Scrabble, Snogging, Uno (card game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:13:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiscuitsForPotter/pseuds/BiscuitsForPotter
Summary: As co-Head Boy and Girl, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger just can't seem to get along. Hermione won't let Draco have a say and Draco refuses to listen. In an effort to force them to work it out, Professor McGonagall sets up a series of non-traditional detentions to get them to work together and communicate better. Her chosen method: board games. What could go wrong?





	Game On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [highlyintelligentblonde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlyintelligentblonde/gifts).



> This was such a fun prompt to receive for the DFW GOGO Fest! Not sure if I took the story in the manner originally imagined, but I decided to take this aesthetic in a light-hearted direction. I hope you enjoy, my wonderful beta, highlyintelligentblonde!

Draco groaned as he stepped into the empty Transfiguration classroom. This was the very last thing he wanted to do with his Friday night. He was an eighth year, damnit. As a full adult still attending Hogwarts, he had the right and the privilege to get as drunk as he wanted with his mates on the weekends. He deserved a year to kick back and relax with friends after the hell he had endured during the war.  

That had been the plan for this year, anyway.

And then _she_ had turned out to be his fellow Head. That bushy-haired know-it-all Granger was named Head Girl, and from the moment they had held their first meeting on the Hogwarts Express, their partnership was doomed. He had every plan to make nice with her and try to put their previously-nasty relationship behind them, but she was just so damn intolerable. She had burst into their compartment, barking orders from her to-do list from the moment she entered. Draco had hardly had a chance to enjoy his first peaceful train ride in years before she had shoved a parchment in his hand and blurted out an entire year’s worth of plans.

He had looked back and forth between the parchment and her, unable to decide what he wanted to look at less. As it turned out, Granger’s hair appeared to have softened over the summer and her eyes carried hints of their familiar spark and fire. She even appeared to have filled out a little since the end of the war four months ago. Grudgingly, he supposed, he would choose Granger if he had to.

But alas, he didn’t have to, seeing as the train had hardly pulled out of King’s Cross.

Not wanting to deal with any of it yet, he had grabbed his scarf from his trunk, bunched it up, and stuffed it under his head as he laid down on the seat, his back to Granger.

She had huffed and stormed away, which suited him just fine.

In the past two months, nothing had improved.

Granger took charge at every turn without even pretending to consult him.

Draco would have been happy with delegating at least… _something_. He was Head Boy, after all. But no. She was so damn controlling that he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Hermione Granger certainly liked to be the most influential person in the room. Not that he could blame her. After seeing her at her lowest, to find her returned to her force-of-nature ways was almost… a relief? He wasn’t sure that was the right word. She was strong and determined, and Draco always found those qualities to be attractive. Well, almost always. This was Granger, after all. No need to confuse himself. She was still an incredibly annoying chit.

To make matters worse, they had all their classes together as eighth years and they had to share a dormitory. He couldn’t bloody escape the girl for one damn second during the week and the one chance he had to get away from her this weekend had been bullocksed up.

Granger was already waiting at the front of the classroom alongside Headmistress McGonagall. Both of them turned to face him when he stepped inside.

“Come in, Mr. Malfoy. Take a seat beside Miss Granger and I will explain your detention.”

Draco’s dress shoes clicked on the flagstone floor as he walked forward, the sound echoing around the otherwise silent room. He pulled out a chair, smirking as the harsh scraping noise made Granger wince a little.

“Now. As the Head Boy and Girl, it is imperative that you set an example for the rest of the school. Especially in times like these, we need to show a united front to all our students, who have impressionable minds.”

McGonagall looked down the bridge of her nose at them as she spoke, her eyes piercing. Draco saw Granger shrink slightly in her seat.

“Therefore, I don’t care what it takes, but we are going to get you two working well together.”

“Yes, Professor,” Granger mumbled, fidgeting with her hands.

Draco forced himself not to roll his eyes. She was such a suck-up.

“Very well. You will serve these detentions every Friday night. You will serve them until the Christmas holidays. If, at that time, I deem that you can stand to be in each other’s presence, I will call off these detentions and you can return your usual Friday night activities.”

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. Four weeks of Fridays? Why did he have to come back to this forsaken school, anyway? His family owned and managed several properties, and that was more than enough income to keep him comfortable for the foreseeable future.

“Professor, what exactly are we doing for these detentions?” Granger asked, looking back and forth eagerly between him and McGonagall.

The Headmistress quirked her eyebrows slightly.

“These are not traditional detentions. You are not being punished for your… lack of ability to get along, shall we say. The staff doesn’t need you to feel punished. We need you to cooperate and to establish a rapport with each other. Therefore, I have decided that for your detentions, you shall be given tasks to complete that will facilitate a more… positive relationship between the two of you.”

Draco leaned in. He wasn’t sure had heard correctly.

“And what task will be doing tonight?” Granger’s wide eyes and slight frown gave away her own concern.

Using her wand, she conjured a thin, colourful box.

Granger’s jaw dropped. “A board game, Professor?” she asked, her head tilting.

Wait. There was a game in that box? He was giving up precious drinking time to play a fucking game with Granger?

He jumped to his feet, poised to object, but the Headmistress was too quick.

“I will return in an hour. Until then, I expect you to spend the entire time playing the game. This game was graciously provided to us by one of our Muggleborn students. Miss Granger, if you know the game you must be patient explaining the rules to Mr. Malfoy.” Granger nodded, craning her neck as if to get a peek at the box. “Mr. Malfoy, you must actually listen while she explains.”

Draco scowled at the Headmistress.

“I shall see you in an hour.”

McGonagall handed the box to Granger and strode toward the back of the classroom, closing the wooden door behind her.

Draco leaned back in his seat and groaned, dragging his hands down his face. From beside him, he heard Granger give a little squeak whisper, “I loved this game when I was little!”

“Great. We’re playing a kid’s game. Fucking fantastic.”

“Malfoy, Battleship is not just a kids’ game. It’s actually pretty fun.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he scoffed, leaning on his elbow. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Granger waved her wand and transfigured a desk into a square table, taking a seat across from him. He watched as she set opened the box to reveal two folded boards with grids on the inside.

“What the hell is this?” Draco spat, eyeing the board and the little red and white pegs with suspicion.

“It’s Battleship. It’s a guessing game. We have to place our ships secretly and then try to guess where the other person put theirs – we have to sink the other people’s ships.”

“Will the ship actually sink?” Draco held a grey plastic piece up to the light, squinting. It didn’t seem like anything special as he weighed it in his hand.

Granger actually laughed. It should have grated on his ears. It should have. His jaw tensed more over the fact it didn’t. Not much at least.

“No, Malfoy. It’s a Muggle game. If your piece sinks, you just remove it from the board.”

That’s right. A Muggle game. Draco made it through Granger’s explanation without rolling his eyes – too much. Granger seemed almost eager to play – she was practically trembling in her seat, her smile far too wide for something as trivial as being forced to play a moronic game on a Friday night.

Ugh. He could have been getting drunk right now, and it was all her damn fault.

They began to play, and Draco quickly realised he needed to come up with some sort of strategy. This may have been a stupid waste of time, but, call it his competitive nature, he definitely didn’t want to lose.

The only problem with that was that he seemed to constantly find his stupid little ships covered in red pieces, but he had only found a handful of hers.

“F7?” Granger asked, staring at her grid intently.

“You sunk my… what is this?” Draco held up the smallest ship.

“I sunk your Destroyer.”

Draco rolled his eyes. What he wouldn’t give for shots of firewhisky right about now.

“A4,” he sighed.

“Oh. Um, hit.”

Draco perked up.

When it was his turn again, he managed another hit. And another. As it turned out, when he looked more closely between all the white pegs, he actually had a decent picture of where Granger’s ships might be. Perhaps if he got lucky, he could actually win this thing. He just had to pinpoint three of her ships before she found his… large flat ship, whatever it was called.

“Hit,” Granger groaned, plucking her own large, flat ship from the board. “You sunk my Carrier. I can’t believe it. You actually won.”

Draco smirked, leaning back in his chair.

“Looks like I’ve come out on top for once, eh, Granger?”

The girl folded her arms and huffed, glancing down at her watch. “Best two out of three? We’ve got time. It’s only been twenty minutes.”

Any vestiges of glee from his victory vanished. They still had forty minutes of this? He was going to get so smashed when they were finished.

“Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled, pulling the pegs from the grid to start over. “Stupidest detention ever.”

“I agree it’s a bit unconventional. But this is the longest we’ve gone all term without yelling at each other, isn’t it?”

Draco grunted in response.

Granger ended up winning round two, but by the time round three rolled around, Draco seemed to have worked out more of a strategy. So engrossed was he in the final throes of the game that he didn’t hear Professor McGonagall re-enter. When the headmistress cleared her throat to get their attention, his heart jumped as he tried to mask his enthrallment with feigned disinterest.

“Time’s up, you two. You may pick up the game and resume your Friday evening activities. You have been given permission to copy the game and take it back to your common room if you wish to play it again at a later date.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Draco shut his game board with a snap. “I’ve got better things to do than keep playing this stupid game with Granger.”

Snagging his cloak, Draco stomped away. If he hurried, he could get to the Slytherin common room in time for a couple rounds before he had to sign off the rounding Prefects for the night. As he swept from the room, he noticed Granger duplicate the game and tuck it into her school bag.

* * *

 

The plan to get drunk in the Slytherin common room had been successful the previous week, so Draco wasn’t quite so morose the following Friday when he entered the same transfiguration classroom to find Granger and the Headmistress waiting for him once again.

“Last week you played a game of guessing and strategy. This week’s game is more of an intellectual challenge. That’s what our Muggle Studies Professor who lent me the game told me, at any rate.” Professor McGonagall summoned another thin box.

Upon seeing the box, Granger jumped with glee. “Oooh. I love this game. I used to play it with my nan all the time.”

“It’s a game you play with your nan? Gods, how boring is this next hour going to be?” Draco felt as though he had been tossed back into the pits of Hell. He needed a drink yesterday.

“It’s not boring!” Granger insisted, setting the box down on the same conjured table with a bit more force than usual. From inside, Draco heard something rattle.

“All right, then, Granger. I’m supposed to listen to you. Tell me why this game is not boring. Because it basically looks like a word game, and that just sounds stupid.”

“It’s true, you do make words,” she began, pulling a board from the box. “But every letter is worth a different amount of points, and your score can change based on where you put it on the board.”

Granger doled out the letters and Draco stared at them blankly. What exactly was he supposed to be doing? Glancing over at the Head Girl, he saw her meticulously rearranging her letters in various configurations.

“I’ll go first if you don’t have a word yet,” she suggested. When he didn’t reply, she began to place her tiles in the center.

 _Perfidy_.

Draco scowled at her word choice.

“That’s a double letter score and a double word score. So it’s… 34 points. Your turn, Malfoy.”

As Granger drew seven more letters from the pouch, Draco turned back to his own little shelf. What could he do to beat Granger? He had to beat her. Had to see her stupid, smug face when he proved to her once and for all that she wasn’t as smart as she seemed.

It took a few moments, but when he saw it, he grinned.

“Ha!” Laid out perfectly, he put down the tiles for _workshop._ “That’s a double letter for k and a triple word score, making this… 75 points. Sorry to disappoint, Granger, but this won’t be an easy win for you.”

Draco looked up, hoping to see even an ounce of despair in her eyes. What he found instead shocked him: fire.

Hermione Granger looked more determined than ever, her eyes blazing as they darted across her own collection of letters, her fingers manipulating the tiles with ease.

Back and forth they played, sometimes taking several minutes for a single turn. Draco was determined not to lose today, and it was clear that Granger felt the same. While last week’s game had proved fun, for sure, tonight’s game was clearly superior. And arguing with Granger was an added bonus. They had gotten into a particularly nasty spat about the use of incantations as valid words. In the end, his hopes of using _lumos_ triumphed when finally Granger relented.  

Finally, when the bag had been emptied of all its letters, Draco stared at the letters he had left. No vowels. If only he could find the right spot…

“ _Ditch!_ ” Draco slammed the tiles onto the board. “Read it and weep, Granger. That’s 11 more points for me.” Smirking, Draco leaned back, kicking his heels up and resting them on the table. “Give up; there’s no way you can fit another big word in. There’s no room. I’ve got you beat by twenty points.”

He watched her carefully in that moment. She was staring at her tiles as though they were some sort of delightful puzzle. Her eyebrows scrunched together, and her little nose wrinkled. It was almost cute.

Almost.

Several minutes passed as Granger arranged and rearranged her tiles. McGonagall would be back any minute and he needed to secure a victory so he could go drink in peace.

“Any day now, Granger,” he drawled, tapping his fingers.

“Just… wait…” she whispered, leaning incredibly close to her tiles, her chocolate brown eyes more focused than he had ever seen her, even through years of class. Was her set of letters that hard, or was she just really trying to beat him?

He hoped it was the latter; he wanted to beat her so badly and watch her squirm, but watching her competitive edge was oddly addictive.

And then…

“Aha!” Granger jumped out of her seat, a wild grin painted on her face.

The sudden movement and noise made Draco jump, himself.

“Merlin’s Beard, Granger! What’s going on?”

Hermione’s eyes glinted as she spoke. “I just beat you, is what!”

“Impossible,” Draco scoffed.

“Quite possible, actually. Observe.” Hermione snatched her tiles one by one and laid them directly above the word he had just made: _ditch_.

Well, fuck.

Q-U-I-D-D-I-T-C-H.

“That’s fifty points and the game, Malfoy. I’ve used my last letters.” She looked exhilarated as she spoke, her chest heaving and her cheeks flushed, a mile-wide smile spreading across her face.

In that moment, Hermione Granger had never looked scarier or more attractive.

“Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, your time is up. Next week, same time.”

Granger used her wand to gather up the pieces and put everything together in the box again.

“Mind if I take this back with me, Malfoy?” She held up the game, now neatly tucked away. “I thought perhaps you’d like a rematch.”

Something about the glint in her eye made him want to grin back at her.

“Sure. Why not? I’d love an opportunity to get you back for that last, _dirty_ move.”

Draco wasn’t exactly sure why he emphasised the word dirty – or, at least, he didn’t want to admit why.

Granger chuckled and tucked the box under her arm; he was surprised to find, not only that it wasn’t grating at all, but that he liked it when she laughed.

Two headed toward the classroom door together and into the corridor. Draco turned one way and found Granger turned the other.

“Off to go have some drinks with your mates?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Yeah. They’ll be waiting for me. It’s my favorite part of the week.”

“What part? Spending time with friends or getting drunk?”

Draco paused. “Hard to say.”

“What if I brought some drinks for us next week? That might make this more… enjoyable.”

Drinking with Granger? What the hell would that be like? The Gryffindor Know-It-All completely smashed? He had to see that. His mind burned with curiosity as she stared back at him, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Yeah, all right,” he said, trying to project an air of nonchalance.

“Great. I’ll bring some in my bag. Not sure if McGonagall needs to know, so we’ll have to be careful to clean up before she gets back.”

Right. This was definitely the Granger he knew – willing to take a small risk, but not enough to actually be fun.

He’d make arrangements with Blaise and Theo for next week just to be safe.

“Right then, see you back in our rooms later.”

“See you… Draco.”

She bade him goodnight with a smile, and to his horror, he felt his stomach flip at the sound of his first name roll off her lips. Like she was testing to see how it felt or tasted.

* * *

 

The next week brought one of their worst fights as Heads to-date: what to do when one of the Prefects had been caught fucking his girlfriend after hours in an empty classroom. Granger had been the one to catch them, and she had summoned him to the scene to help decide on a punishment.

They had argued for several long minutes in the dark, crowded classroom while the poor couple sat huddled on the professor’s desk, terrified, a conjured blanket covering their most important bits. In the end, Draco made the executive decision to let them go with only a warning, much to Granger’s outrage. They had argued all the way back to their common room about protocol and trust, and Granger had ended up slamming the door to her room in his face.

They hadn’t spoken the rest of the week and hadn’t taken out Scrabble, either. Draco found himself rather disappointed – he had actually been looking forward to finding a way to beat Granger… Hermione (were they on first-name terms now?) at her own game.

Yet, when Friday came around again, the two of them managed to sit across from each other once again at the same table, a new activity between them.

“Uno? I’ve never played this one,” Granger said, indicating the colourful card box in front of them. “We’ll have to read the rules carefully.”

Draco turned the box over in his hands as Hermione dealt the cards.

“Wait, before we begin…” She withdrew a handful of butterbeers from her bag.

Draco sighed. He really liked stronger stuff, but this would have to do, he supposed. It’s not as though he expected Granger to bring the good stuff.

Two butterbeers in, though, all the tension from the previous week had gone from the room. It had been replaced with a newer, biting tension as they threw cards down at lightning speed. This game was fast-paced and cutthroat as hell. Seeing the fire in her eyes once again, he was determined to beat her this week.

Yellow three.

Yellow nine.

Red nine.

“Skip!”

“Shite!”

Draco looked up as _Hermione_ swore. Maybe he could compromise and refer to her by her first name in the confines of this room...

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Granger. Here I thought you were a goodie-two-shoes or something.” He took another swig of butterbeer before setting down a red four. On they played for several more minutes, Draco’s cards slowly dwindling Just three more cards… two more cards…

Though he was invested in the game, he also kept an eye on his opponent’s face. She was once again filled with such intensity he almost found it hard to concentrate. This witch really wasn’t like other girls he had spent time with. Other girls like Pansy or the Greengrass sisters might have let him win, wanting to please him. That’s definitely what happened in years past when they played Exploding Snap in the common room, and it had really bugged him at the time. He knew Pansy was competitive, but she refused to show that side of herself when playing him.

Frankly, he found it insulting.

But that’s not how Granger, _Hermione,_ operated. No, she was giving this game her all. Unlike the previous two games, where she took her sweet time to consider her moves carefully, this game seemed to bring out her impulsive side. Draco watched as her cheeks flushed with excitement each time she laid down a card, a smile dancing on her lips as she waited for her next turn.

Watching her made his heart beat a little fast, though that could have just been the game.

And if it wasn’t, if it was _more_ , he was ignoring it.

“Uno!” Granger cried triumphantly as she slammed a blue six onto the table, her face teeming with excitement.

Draco smirked.

“Draw four.”

“Fuck!” She glared at the deck as she added the cards to her hand.

“Hermione Granger, who knew you had it in you?”

“Fuck you, Draco.”

He drew his hand over his heart and gasped in feigned shock. “My poor ears.”

She stuck her tongue out and grumbled, reaching for another bottle of butterbeer.

“Let’s just play, _Malfoy_.”

When he won the first round, Hermione grudgingly wished him congratulations, collecting the cards and shuffling them for another round.

When he won the second round, she huffed and cracked open her fourth butterbeer, taking a long swig.

“Not a sore loser, are you?” he asked, dealing cards for their third game. She stuck her tongue out at him again. Gods. He decided she was cute when her feathers got this ruffled. Almost as cute as when she couldn’t bring herself to properly describe what they had caught that Prefect doing this past week. She had called it ‘coupling,’ ‘canoodling,’ and ‘fondling,’ but mostly, she called it by its clinical name, ‘having intercourse.’

 _“You mean they were fucking?”_ he had teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

She had turned six shades of purple, and he hadn’t been able to get her adorably embarrassed face out of his head since.

“Just _go_.”

Draco was dragged back to the present as he shrugged and flipped over the top card, revealing a yellow two. Within minutes, the third game had reached peak intensity. It seemed both of them had a lot of compatible cards this time, and Hermione was giving the game her all.

Red four.

Green four.

Green eight.

Green two.

Draw two.

Red two.

Draco swore this time. He didn’t have anything to play. He drew a blue two and sighed, setting it down on the center pile. Looking up, he saw Granger was down to two cards. The hour was almost up and he wanted nothing more than to beat her three times, fair and square. Perhaps, then, for once in her life, she would lose that smug little look she wore all the time. But was that what he really wanted? He had grown to enjoy that look these past few Fridays…

As she laid down a blue six, a smirk on her lips, he jumped on his chance at victory.

“Uno!” he shouted, practically jumping out of his seat.

“Goddammit, Draco. Can’t you just let me win one round?”

“No can do, Head Girl. What was it you said earlier this week about the importance of _following protocol_?”

He raised his eyebrows at her, emphasizing those last two words with a laugh before chugging the last of his butterbeer. He had really been hoping for firewhisky, but he supposed five butterbeers had left him feeling pleasantly buzzed.

It seemed Hermione was feeling similarly buzzed. She started laughing and shaking her head as she drew a card, a dreamy sort of smile dancing on her lips.

“You’re impossible, Draco.”

“I could say the same about you.” He laid down a Wild Draw Four card, the back of his palm concealing the contents of his hand.

She scowled and drew four more cards.

“Oh, by the way, _Uno_.” He dangled his singular card in front of her face.

She screamed. She actually screamed in frustration, and he loved every second of it. He rather liked the sound.

For half a second, he entertained the idea of finding other ways to make her scream.

Instead, he called the new color with a smooth voice. “Green.”

She swore _again_.

Draco’s heartbeat increased, and he didn’t even pretend to ignore it. Gods, he loved her like this. Feisty. Fired up.

McGonagall’s plan was definitely backfiring. He needed to hear that sound again. Oh, he was going to pick so many fights with her from now on.

She drew another card, not taking her eyes off him.

A beat. The air between them pulsed.

With a flourish, he leaned across the table and dropped his final card, a green four, onto the pile. Draco stood and pushed his chair out. Hermione gazed up at him as he made his way over to her side, never breaking eye contact. She drew a breath and seemed to hold it as he drew closer and closer until they were mere inches apart.

She smelled like flowers and sweetness – the butterbeer. From here, he could count every freckle on her nose.

Leaning in even closer, his nose brushed her cheek as he whispered in her ear. He felt her shiver at the contact.

_“I win.”_

Draco swooped away, smirking, as her breath came back in a splutter. Before she had a chance to respond properly, the door to the classroom opened and Professor McGonagall strode toward them.

Making quick work of their mess, Draco waved his wand and vanished the bottles before the Headmistress could reprimand them for drinking during a detention.

“How did this week’s game go, Mr. Malfoy?”

“I beat her three times, Professor, and I do believe she’s a bit sore.”

McGonagall turned to face Hermione, her lips pursed and her eyebrows raised. “Is this true?”

“Y-yes, Professor. If you’ll excuse me.” Hermione stood and bustled from the room, her bushy head looking down.

“Was it that bad?” McGonagall asked after Granger had gone.

“I stole victory right from under her nose multiple times,” Draco replied, his voice laced with pride. “She’s used to getting her way when she works with me, so she’s bound to be upset.”  

McGonagall sighed. “Well, as Head Boy, you are just as much in charge as she is. But see to it that you don’t rub her nose in your victory, will you? This is meant to be an exercise to get you two comfortable around each other.”

“Of course, Professor.”

Draco packed up the Uno cards and pocketed them before exiting. He had made plans with Blaise and Theo, but he was already buzzed enough to make tonight acceptable. Besides, Hermione’s scent still lingered, the sound of her scream emblazoned in his memory. He had every intention of heading to the Prefect’s bathroom to make excellent use of a long, hot shower.  

* * *

 

Hermione avoided him like the plague the entire next week. During their monthly Prefect meeting, she deferred to him, preferring to sit in quiet contemplation the whole hour. Frankly, Draco didn’t mind the space he was getting from her – he needed the time to do some contemplation, himself. In the past week, he had gotten himself off six times at the thought of her – twice in one day last Tuesday.

Something was clearly wrong with him. He just knew it. But he couldn’t stop picturing all the things he could do to her to hear that scream again. Or perhaps, all the things he could withhold from her… it had been a scream of frustration, after all.

Essentially, this past week had given him time to conclude that he had some sort of interest in Hermione Granger. Which… _fuck_. That was a hard potion to swallow. Being attracted to the Gryffindor, brown-nosing, best friend to the Boy-Who-Wouldn’t-Die was not something he had expected, but his arousal hit him like a Firebolt and wouldn’t seem to go away.

Now the only question that remained was if she felt a similar attraction.  

Draco found himself half-hard at that thought as he walked up a flight of stairs to his next detention. Cursing, he ducked behind a tapestry to calm down. He wanted tonight’s game to go well, and the competitive side of him wouldn’t get very far if he had an erection for an hour straight.

It was the last Friday before the Christmas holidays and therefore, their potential last detention. And he wanted to go out with a bang. Last week, Hermione had brought butterbeer, and it had been pleasant enough. But this week, he knew he would need something stronger if he was going to spend an entire hour with her and not go raving mad.

“Odgen’s Finest,” he said proudly, setting it on the table as soon as McGonagall had left them to it.

Hermione eyed the bottle with a wary eye.

“Have you never had firewhisky before?”

“I have… right after…”

Draco didn’t need her to expound on exactly what event she drank firewhisky after.

“Right. Well then, you know how good this stuff is.” He poured two shots and held one out. She accepted after a moment.

The two downed their shots in one go.

“So tell me, _Hermione,_ what game are we playing this week? Will I beat you three times again?”

To his surprise, she grinned back at him. “Oh, we won’t have time for three games. I doubt we’ll even finish one.”

She held up the box and Draco read the game title.

“Monopoly? What kind of game is this?”

“It’s a game of strategy and money-making.”

Draco smirked. “Sounds like it’s right up my alley.”

“We’ll have to see, won’t we, _Draco_?”

Gods, the confident, ambitious edge to her voice almost made him wish he had had a wank behind that tapestry. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t be half-hard again. Well, fuck.  

Hermione read the rules to him before they selected their pieces – the race car for him, the top hat for her. As Hermione laid out the board and dealt the paper money – _paper money? What a stupid idea!_ – Draco eyed the board, taking in as many details as he could. This game definitely seemed more… complex. But his family had actual experience in this industry, so surely, that would play to his advantage.

“Right. Would you like to roll first?”

He nodded and gameplay began. It seemed as though Hermione knew what she was doing. Or did she? In the first go round, she purchased Reading Railroad, St James Place, and the Short Line.

Draco, on the other hand, knew exactly what he wanted.

He was going to buy the most expensive squares in the game just to piss her off. Surely that would get a reaction out of her. He ignored everything he landed on, even looping around, until was able to purchase Park Place.

He collected the property card and looked up, hoping to see devastation in her expression.

Instead, he was met with cold apathy.

Draco was doubly confused when she went for Tennessee Avenue and another railroad. What he would have to pay in rent was insignificant compared to what she would when she landed on Park Place or Boardwalk – his next target. He would be first to have a monopoly and be well on his way to another victory!

But as they continued to play, it was clear that their strategies were vastly different. Hermione not only managed to complete her orange set, but all the railroads and the red set at as well. Meanwhile, Draco had managed to secure the most and least expensive properties. Yes, this was a good strategy. He could make lots of money if he owned actual properties like this. That’s how the real-world real estate acquisition had worked for his family, and it was exactly how he would win this game.

Every time he tried to check on Hermione, he still saw continual indifference. It was really starting to grate his nerves. It was as though the girl who had played these past few weeks with passion and intensity had disappeared and instead, been replaced with someone wearing a blank mask.

Even as they began to buy houses and hotels, she said nothing.

When she went to to jail, she didn’t react.

It was driving him spare.

He wanted her to talk to him, wanted her to smile, frown, _anything!_

After this turn he would say something.

Rolling the dice for his turn, Draco moved forward several spaces and landed on New York Avenue.

_Shite._

“That’s a thousand.”

Hermione held out her hand, palm up, expression neutral.

Draco looked down at his cash.

Double dragon shite. He didn’t have enough. That had never… that had never happened to him before. Not in real life, at least. Fuck this game.

He looked from his money pile to Hermione, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Um, what do I… What can I…?”

Hermione counted gathered his cards and began counting silently, her fingers moving over the board.

“You’ll have to mortgage something.”

“Mortgage?”

“Take out a loan. Pick a property and strike a deal with the bank. It’s a way to get quick cash.”

Draco growled, snatching his cards back from Hermione. “This game is stupid.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re losing and you know it.”

He scoffed, leaning on one elbow and counting his money again. Still less than he needed.

Ugh. He hated losing.

Draco looked up to find Hermione watching him intently. When their eyes met, he saw the slightest quirk of her mouth, the corners turned up in the beginnings of a smug smile. At once, blood rushed to his groin.

He was absolutely fucked, and not just where this game was concerned. Thank gods for firewhisky. It fueled him with the courage to take this final detention into his own hands.

Draco surged forward and flipped the board, scattering houses, money, and cards everywhere. He crossed to the other side of the table with a sense of urgency. This bloody witch was driving him mad, and he was either about to make his best move yet, or his worst.

Hermione had just enough time to say his name before he cupped her face in his hands and crushed his lips to hers. They were soft and tasted of firewhisky, and Draco felt his whole body come to life. Hermione squeaked in surprise, and to his great fucking relief, grabbed the back of his head and threaded her fingers through his hair, kissing him back.

It was like lightning, this kiss. Draco could feel every nerve ending down to his toes, and the feeling of Hermione’s tongue tracing his lips shot all those sensations straight to his balls. Her hands suddenly seemed tiny as they splayed on his chest, her fingers picking on the buttons of his white, uniform shirt.

Where was the timid, embarrassed girl who couldn’t even look him in the eye when she had caught those Prefects last week? Had that all been an act? The Hermione Granger currently tearing his shirt off certainly seemed like a completely different animal. A beast, almost. Was it just the firewhisky, or were her actions accountable to something else… something deeper?

Yes, he had definitely assessed the fire in her eyes correctly.

Breaking contact for just a moment, Hermione turned around, her eyes ablaze, and swept her arms across the tabletop. The vestiges of their game went flying, leaving the surface bare. Turning back to face him, Hermione hopped up on the table, spreading her legs just enough for him to fit between them.

Sweet Circe. He couldn’t remember being this hard ever in his life.

He made quick work of her buttons and pressed his bare chest to her bra-clad one. Her breasts were delightfully supple and he moaned into her mouth at the contact.  

As they continued snogging in the empty transfiguration classroom, a little voice in the back of his mind brought up the possibility that this might not be the time or place to get into Hermione Granger’s knickers.

That voice was drowned out by the feel of Hermione’s hand trailing past his navel.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he croaked.

“Don’t talk,” Hermione commanded, her fingers reaching their destination. Draco immediately felt the rest of his brain function go out the window.

If they didn’t stop soon, they might break the very rule they gave out a warning for. And he was positive McGonagall wouldn’t give them the same punishment, or lack thereof, if they were caught.

_McGonagall. Shite. What time was it?_

“Miss Granger! Mister Malfoy!”

The two sprang apart immediately. Hermione drew her knees up to her chest in an attempt to cover herself while Draco slid to the far side of the table to try and hide his raging erection.

The Headmistress’s face had gone white, her lips so thin Draco could scarcely see them. Shite. This wouldn’t be good.

“What on earth is going on here? And… is that firewhisky?” Her eyes traveled to the mostly-empty bottle of amber liquid on a nearby desk. McGonagall seemed to be trying to take in the entire scene, starting from the bottle to their half-naked forms, ending on the game board and pieces, now scattered all over the floor.

Draco felt his skin prickle with embarrassment. Sure, he had been caught with girls before, but this was a whole new level… caught with Hermione fucking Granger when he was supposed to be serving detention with her… he would lose his Head’s badge for sure. They both would. Hermione would never speak to him again, let alone kiss him. The whole school would swirl with rumours and his hopes of a somewhat normal year would go down the drain.

After several long seconds under McGonagall’s scrutiny, the Headmistress clucked and turned her head. “For Godric’s sake, you two, cover up!”

Hermione pushed herself off the table and snatched her blouse from the ground as Draco re-fastened his belt. He shot a glance at her as she did up the buttons, expecting to find her flushed or trembling. Instead, when her eyes met his, she grinned.

Who even was this woman?

McGonagall, on the other hand, wouldn’t look either of them in in the eye. She was massaging her temple with her fingers and taking deep breaths. After they were dressed, she spoke in a clearly-forced calm voice.

“I can see that your relationship has _improved_. Is that correct, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“And Mister Malfoy, what about your communication?”

“It’s crystal clear, Headmistress.”

Draco looked over at Hermione again. He was sure his face was as surprised as hers. McGonagall didn’t seem ready to explode. Might they actually get away with getting drunk and nearly fucking during detention?

McGonagall sighed. “Very well. Consider these detentions served in full. I suppose this is a better result than anticipated. It’ll be good to have a Head Boy and Girl who… get along.” She cleared her throat. “Just be sure that this new development is discrete and doesn’t get in the way of your duties. Am I clear?”

They both mumbled their affirmations.

“Good. Now, I am going to make you both an appointment with Madam Pomfrey for Monday morning–”

Draco groaned, but McGonagall spoke over him.

“– and I expect you to be there. I’m not naïve, you know.”

Glancing back at Hermione, only now was her face brilliantly red.

“Now get out of here, please, before you defile my classroom any further.”

Draco picked up the empty Monopoly box and bottle of firewhisky as Hermione summoned all the bits and bobs from the floor. When everything was as before, they turned from the Headmistress and scurried toward the door.

As they stepped over the threshold and into the corridor, he could have sworn he heard the Headmistress chuckle.

“So,” Hermione began. “Off to see Blaise and Theo and brag about your conquest?”

“Well I could, I suppose,” he replied. “But then again, I do believe I’d be up for another activity this evening with you.”

“Oh?” Hermione tilted her head a bit, her eyebrows raised. “What sort of _activity_ did you have in mind?”

“Ever hear of Strip Chess?”

Hermione reached out and grabbed him by the belt buckle, a devilish smile slowly spreading across her face. Gods, what did he do to deserve this woman? She leaned close and whispered two words in his ear that made him vibrate with anticipation.

“Game on.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, I hope you had as much fun reading this as I had fun writing it!
> 
> Comments and kudos are lovely!


End file.
